


The Sky Is Gold

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Husbands, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas drop their daughter off at college.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sky Is Gold

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from the song "The Best Day" by Taylor Swift.

_The first time their daughter smiled on the day that they brought her home, Dean was cradling her in his arms fully convinced he was staring at perfection. “Hey, Chevy,” he murmured softly, lest his voice be too loud for her. “God, you’re adorable, aren’t you, sweetheart.”_

_She gurgled in reply, as if to agree._

_“Modest like your father,” Cas teased lightly, while setting up the monitor and fussing with her crib. “It’s a good thing you really are cute.”_

_Dean laughed when Chevy batted her lashes._

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Did you remember your vitamins?” Dean asks as he plugs in the fridge. “‘Cause, sweetheart, I know you’re eighteen, but those meatball subs aren’t gonna keep you goin.’”

Behind him, Castiel laughs, while in front, their daughter sighs.

“I eat at least twice as many vegetables as you do, and besides, I hate meatball subs.”

Dean looks offended now. “You sure you’re my kid?”

“ _Dad_ ,” Chevy rolls her eyes. “Could we please focus? I need to unpack.”

“Sheesh, what a slavedriver, huh, Cas?”

Cas peers at them amusedly. “Are you implying something?”

“Oh, not at all,” Dean winks at his husband, which draws a vomiting gesture from Chevy. “Hey, I thought you were used to this by now.” To rile her up further, he blows Cas a kiss.

“Ew, get a room, guys,” Chevy says, only to realize that they’re standing in hers. Her brown eyes widen and she throws up her hands. “God, never mind, just… Save it for home.”

“Aye, aye,” Dean mock salutes her, grabbing a pair of scissors to open a box. The inside is filled to the brim with clothing, although he knows better than to comment on it. “We’ll get you a real coat,” he says instead, “or you’ll freeze your little butt off come winter.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Chevy holds up a parka. “I went shopping with Daddy last week.”

The coat is bright red with faux fur trim and Dean pouts at Cas feeling slightly betrayed. “Since when’s it just you with the shopping privileges?”

“Since he passed four years of dress shopping with flying colors.”

“Hey, now,” Dean takes a step forward. “That prom dress of yours was way too short.”

“Dad, it was June. In California,” she argues, which isn’t _wrong_ by any means but damn it, that’s not the point.

“ _Anyway_ ,” he clears his throat. “Where’re all your school supplies? Notebooks and stuff?”

“Right here,” she points at the box whose contents she’s putting in drawers. “This was the only box I wanted insured because thanks to you both, I’m a giant nerd.”

Dean’s grin is triumphant. “That’s my girl.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

_Fatherhood became exponentially more hectic when their daughter learned to walk and waddle around the house; Cas was immediately on high alert if she so much bumped into the ottoman. Dean assured his husband she was stronger than she looked, even proved to him after her first fall that she’d be fine as long as they stayed calm. And perhaps to offer her own support, Chevy giggled and reached for Cas with her small, sticky hands._

_Dean found it endearing, of course - just how worried and concerned Castiel was. It didn’t quite stop him from calling Cas a ‘dork,’ until one sunny, unassuming afternoon._

_It was his weekly day off from teaching, eight hours of which he’d spent a solid amount blowing raspberries on Chevy’s belly. She laughed delightedly without fail, as though his silly noises feltnew to her each time._

_At six, Cas walked through the door, with his briefcase and rumpled tie and sleeves rolled up on his forearms. Dean and Chevy had been sitting on the stairs and he could see her perk up at the sight of Cas._

_“Dada!” she lifted her arms, right as Cas heard her and froze in his spot. He blinked once, twice, before swooping in to gather her up. He pressed a kiss in her downy hair and replied “Hello, my Chevy. How was your day?”_

_Dean watched them and took a deep breath. ‘I’m not crying,’ he told himself._

_Except, he totally was. He’d become the dork yet he couldn’t care less._

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

An hour passes by in a flurry of ripped duct tape and folded cardboard, with Dean making sure Chevy has her necessities, like an electric kettle - which she’ll have to keep stashed in the back of her closet - and her tool box with three kinds of screwdrivers as well as a wrench and a medium-sized hammer.

“Should we get her pepper spray?” Dean asks Cas, who gives him a look of fond exasperation.

“Dean, half the town is families and professors and the other half is retirees.”

“Well, yeah, but- Parties,” Dean stage whispers.

“Which is why I taught her Krav Maga.”

“I can hear you both,” Chevy waves. “Plus, eye strikes are far more effective than pepper spray.”

“Sweetheart, please don’t poke anybody’s eyes out,” Castiel sighs. “I’d rather you kick them in the groin. Until they fall. It’s less of a mess.”

Chevy nods seriously.

Dean blinks and watches the two of them straighten the fitted sheet across her bed. “Alright, no pepper spray then,” he mutters partly in awe as he finds the pillow.

A short while later, they meet Chevy’s roommate Sara on their way out to a belated lunch, when the tall brunette appears in the door lugging a massive suitcase behind her. The girls embrace like friends reunited - they’ve been Skyping and emailing for months - and Sara gushes when Chevy introduces them, “She’s told me a lot about you both.”

“Nothing too terrible, I hope,” Cas tells her kindly, shaking her hand. Dean does the same but assesses her too; she seems sweet and Chevy has good instincts, but no one could blame a father for being protective.

“Anybody helping you move in?” he asks.

Sara smiles. _Points for eye contact_. “Yup, my parents are just parking the car.”

“My side’s still a mess, sorry,” Chevy laughs. It’s clear and bright and reminds Dean of summer. Always has.

“Oh, no worries,” Sara replies. “We’ll clean up together. Are you heading out for food?”

Chevy nods. “Do you want anything?”

Sara politely declines, says she’ll catch them later.

“I like her,” Cas tells Chevy when they reach the front door of her dorm building. She beams and tugs him outside and says, “Same here. It could’ve been so bad.”

“Still be careful,” Dean reminds her gently. “You’ve got Uncle Victor’s phone number.”

“Uncle Victor’s a cop, Dad,” Chevy huffs a laugh.

“Precisely my point,” he ruffles her hair.

“I’m surprised you didn’t interrogate her back there.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “What, you want me to?”

“No,” Cas and Chevy reply simultaneously, and Dean rolls his eyes affectionately before taking Cas’ hand partway down the sidewalk.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

_If he and Castiel had thought that ages two through seven would be a challenge, it was nothing compared to thirteen - the sleepovers and drama that came as a package. And although Chevy managed to navigate the cliques without really getting tied down to any, even she couldn’t avoid the fact that teenage meanness could be viciously cruel._

_“Feeling better?” Dean murmured to her, arm curled around her shoulders and pulling her close. She sniffled and nodded, wiping her cheek, and his heart simply broke at the streak left behind._

_“They’re so_ stupid _,” she bit out angrily. “They just- I mean, they just_ say _things to make people feel bad.”_

_“I know,” he told her soothingly. “I know, they’re assholes and you’re perfect, sweetheart.”_

_“M’not,” Chevy muttered back, but he felt her smile through the fabric of his shirt._

_“You are,” Dean said more firmly, then reached for the phone with the hand not holding her. “Want me to call Daddy?” he asked._

_There was barely any pause before Chevy said, “Yeah.”_

_Cas came home with three pints of ice cream and a can of whipped cream and Maraschino cherries. Chevy curled into his side as soon as he sat down, while Dean grabbed bowls and spoons and napkins and thanked the universe for his husband._

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

They end up at a quaint little diner in town and ordering breakfast food for lunch. Chocolate chip pancakes and huevos rancheros and enough hash browns to warrant a warning from Cas.

“Are you calling me fat, babe?” Dean smiles teasingly.

“No, of course not,” Cas sips his coffee. “We just can’t have you in a food coma when we have to lift the rest of Chevy’s boxes.”

Dean has a retort on the tip of his tongue but has to stifle a yawn instead. “Fine,” he grumbles after, making Cas smile when he steals his coffee.

Chevy suggests that they walk off the breakfast and they explore the shops and stores lining the street in bright colors. They drop by the bookstore too, where they get shirts for Sam and Eileen. “Gabe would like those,” Dean points to some shorts, which are pink enough to guide airplanes up and down a runway. Cas clicks his tongue and finds a baseball hat instead, much more tame but a neon green that Dean considers a win.

Once they’re back in Chevy’s building, the hallway is busier with parents and freshmen, harried and scrambling to move in and it’s amazing that everyone fits. They squeeze past a bean bag chair and a leopard print futon that’s kind of atrocious. They put their shopping on a corner of her bed and jump back into unpacking and cleaning.

They’re so focused on getting it done that they almost miss the knock at the door. When Dean looks up, his eyes instantly narrow, although Chevy straightens and says, “Can we help you?”

“Uh, hey, just wanted to say ‘hi.’” The guy smiles sheepishly. “I’m next door, um, 209.”

“Oh!” Chevy walks across the room, extending a hand. “Cool, nice to meet you. I’m Chevy. 208.”

“Kyle,” he smiles again. “Awesome name.”

Dean groans to himself.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas nudges his side, a silent signal to rein it in.

“Awesome name?” Dean mouths back at him, but Cas just sighs, his lips twitching up.

Meanwhile, Kyle isn’t leaving. “So, where are you from?” he asks instead.

“San Diego,” Chevy replies.

“Oh, awesome. I’m from Colorado Springs.”

Awesome, awesome, awesome. Did this kid take his SAT?

“You guys need any help?” Kyle finally asks, giving Dean the chance to say, “No, we’re good.”

“But thank you,” Castiel adds, because he’s polite and composed or whatever. And after Kyle’s gone, he turns to Dean and cards his fingers through Dean’s hair like he’s calming a cat. “You are very cute, Dean Winchester.”

Chevy smirks beside him. “So are the boys on this floor.”

“ _Chevy_ ,” Dean grumbles loudly and nearly fumes when they laugh at him.

“Come on, Dad,” Chevy says, pulling his hand toward her tiny bookshelf. “Help me put these movies in alphabetical order,” and Dean can’t help himself. He laughs too.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

_“Oh my god, Dad, look!” Chevy tugged on his arm, her eyes on the wolves trotting around their enclosure. They’d been coming to the zoo ever since she was four, but luckily the excitement had never quite worn off. “They’re so cute.”_

_“They still your favorite?” he asked her happily, recalling how they’d gotten her a small plush wolf when she was five._

_“For sure,” she stepped up closer, pressing her hands on the glass like a kid. He let her watch them to her heart’s content and sauntered back to Cas, who was taking pictures._

_“So, that daughter of ours. Pretty great, huh?”_

_Cas smiled and kissed his cheek. “She has a great dad.”_

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“What’s in here?” Dean holds up a shoebox, a fancier one meant for dressy heels. Chevy’s actual shoes are somewhere else - he would know; he packed them himself - and he quirks an eyebrow when Chevy just smiles and tells him to open it but “be careful.”

There’s bunched up tissue paper at the very top, so he moves them aside, gently to the floor. Each object’s wrapped separately, it seems, and there are three all nestled together.

The size of them makes him wonder - knowing what Chevy keeps on her shelves back home. He opens the first one carefully, then stares and stares at what it turns out to be.

“You brought this?” he asks quietly, and feels his throat tighten with sudden emotion. It’s the miniature wolf he’d carved for her, almost ten years ago for her eighth birthday.

“Yeah, of course,” his daughter shifts closer. “I brought the other ones too, see? Look.”

And there they are, a replica of his Baby and a pirate princess standing on a ship. He’d made that one when Chevy was seven and asked why there weren’t any girl pirates.

“I’m glad you still like them,” he manages to say, the corners of his eyes stinging a little.

“I love them,” Chevy corrects him, and sets them down side by side on the higher shelf.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Are you doing alright?” Cas holds his hand as they walk to their car later that evening. They’re heading to a hotel nearby and leaving tomorrow sometime after lunch.

“I think so,” Dean sighs out. “She’s gonna be fine. I know she will.”

“Yes,” Cas squeezes his hand, eyes fond and kind, as beautiful as ever. “And before we know it, it will be Thanksgiving and she’ll be home; we can dote on her again.”

“I thought you were gonna send her a care package next week.”

Cas smiles, blushing. “I am. Can you blame me?”

“No,” Dean pulls him close, kisses him soft and sweet and mumbling, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Cas says against his lips, stepping back only when his cell chimes in his pocket. “It’s Chevy,” he chuckles at the text. “She and Sara are testing out their T.V.”

“That Sara girl better have good taste. We spent eighteen years on developing Chevy’s and-”

“Dean?”

“… Yeah, Cas?”

Whatever he was planning to say next is lost when Cas brings him back to where their lips were before.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

_“What do you wanna be when you grow up, sweetheart?”_

_“Mm… A pirate princess!”_

_“Really? A mean one or a nice one?”_

_“A nice one! I want to save people from all the_ mean _pirates and I want blue sails like Daddy’s eyes.”_

_“That sounds amazing, princess.”_

_“D’you think I’ll be a good pirate, Dad?”_

_Dean smiled. “The best there was.”_

 

 

> I'm five years old, it’s getting cold  
>  I’ve got my big coat on
> 
> I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you  
>  I run and run
> 
> Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides  
>  Look now - the sky is gold  
>  I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable link here](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/138947887535)
> 
> This was a commission for the lovely [Meg](http://sparksflycastiel.tumblr.com). I'm currently offering commissions to support Random Acts. Check [here](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/fic-commissions) if you'd like to commission me!
> 
> As always, please do leave me kudos, comments, and love. :)


End file.
